A Man Called Father
by Hypocritical-Hime
Summary: A father never feels he is the hero his daughter adores, the man his son worships, the immortal presence his child thinks him to be. And yet, his love for them is endless. Various Naruto father/child pairs and all in between.Characters will change as I go
1. ShikakuShikamaru

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto.

**Title: **A Man Called Father

**Pairings: **Various

**Summary Notes: **I've been wanting to do something like this for a while, and now I'm focusing on the older generations, I figured I should go ahead and do it before I ran out of time. As a fatherless child in a sense, I've always been drawn to father/child relationships. Thus, the following chapters will be any of the Naruto characters and their father, and everything in between. If I've forgotten anyone, let me know.

Now, for any of you dobbers out there, this is *not* a challenge of any kind. It's simply inspired by the following quote:

_A father never feels worthy of the worship he sees for him in his child's eyes. He's never quite the hero his daughter thinks, never quite the man his son believes him to be, and this worries him. So he works too hard to try and smooth the rough places in both himself and the road for those of his own who will follow him, more precious than his own life...his children._

And now, onward!

**Shikamaru/Shikaku**

Nara Shikaku is not a demonstrative man. He is a Nara, and Nara are reticient. That aside, it is simply his nature; he is a quiet, reserved personality, preferring to slip quietly about like his shadows. Even to his beloved wife, he is somewhat shy at times, though fortunately, Yoshino is a perceptive woman, and perfectly willing to love him unconditionally.

Thus, he finds little reason to be troubled by the display of deep emotions. One would even go so far as to say he is wary of emotional outbursts, disliking the disruption towards or around his calm disposition. It affects his mind, and when his mind is affected, his body follows, and with it, his fighting capacity.

All in all, Shikaku likes to think he has complete control over his emotions. He will become ruffled on his terms, and no one else's. Nothing is allowed to unbalance his sharp mind.

And yet, he finds his emotional self-control strangely lacking as he stares down at this little form. This...creature of reddened skin and skinny limbs and a thin mop of black hair, that is far, far too small and fragile for him to hold in arms rough and hard from shinobi training.

"His name is Shikamaru, Shikaku."

_Shikamaru. _

The little creature opens his eyes and glares up at him sleepily, those narrowed, dark eyes clearly conveying his displeasure at being awoken by his father shifting about. Dark and narrow and sleepy...Nara eyes. _His _eyes.

_My son...he's my *son*..._

Nara Shikaku is not a demonstrative man. But in this one, brief yet overwhelming moment, Shikaku bows his head to Shikamaru's just as small, chubby hands reach up to touch the scars on his face.

And he cries.


	2. AsumaUnborn Child

**Disclaimer: **You KNOW it's not mine, because Jiraiya's still not there.

**Pairing: **Asuma/Unborn child (post Asuma's death)

**Summary Notes: **Dedicated to White_Eye_Lover, with a healthy dose of wibble for all of us who's heart broke for Kurenai when we found out she was pregnant after Asuma died.

"Asuma, I don't know if he can hear you yet..."

"She can. I heard it's like being seventy thousand leagues under the sea."

"...fine, she. But _she _probably hasn't even got ears to hear with, yet."

"She can."

Asuma's conviction was so steadfast despite that silly grin on his face that Kurenai couldn't help but smile.

She'd had little reason to fear in the end, not when it came to Asuma's reaction to her pregnancy. He'd been shocked at first, but then he'd warmed to the idea in the space of an hour, though considering the way he treated his genin team, it wasn't that surprising. No, Asuma was perfectly delighted, as his current position suggested.

Said current position involved Kurenai being stuck sitting on the couch, legs tucked under her while her supposedly cool, 'badass' (or so they said) partner knelt before her, and Kurenai chuckled a bit when his spiky hair tickled her tummy. His cheek was pressed to her still flat abdomen, and she'd spent the best part of the last half hour alternately rolling her eyes and laughing while he alternated between that stupid, goofy grin and chattering away to the little spark in her womb, apparently convinced he or she could hear him.

"And if you're a she, Daddy's going to have to consider upgrading his knives, so those horrible cretans think twice about coming near you-"

"Asuma!" Kurenai laughed.

"What?" he said, brown eyes indignant as he looked up at her. "Kurenai, I was a teenage boy, once. I _know _what they're _like." _

"I sometimes wonder if you still are," she muttered, earning a reproachful scowl in response. Chuckling, Kurenai sought to soothe his ego, leaning down so she could hug his head, nesting her face into his hair.

"I'm just glad you're happy, Asuma," she murmured, before adding teasingly, "I was afraid for a second that you'd run a mile and then I'd be stuck listening to first word, first giggle, first steps..."

"Nah, I want to be there the day she does her first knee-to-crotch and teaches those little jerks a lesson."

"Asuma!"

He smirked in response, and Kurenai shook her head, laughing helplessly. She knew better than to try and convince him otherwise, and for now, she was perfectly content to let him be. Because no matter what happened, they were going to be a family.

_A/N: *weeps* Asuuuuuma!_


	3. InoInoichi

_**Disclaimer: **__Jiraiya's STILL not back, so we know I don't own Naruto. Mind you, Naruto's become *rather* attractive and manly himself these days..._

_**Pairing: **__Ino/Inoichi_

_**Summary Notes: **__Man, being a girl, I loved writing this one even as it tugged my heart strings. I'll say...dedicated to Lovesrainscent, because it was her Nano-fic, Holding Out For A Hero, and her getting me hooked on InoShikaCho, that gave me inspiration for this._

* * *

_"You know what, Inoichi? One day, I hope you marry the prettiest girl in Konoha. And I hope you have an abso-freaking-lutely beautiful daughter...and then you can spend the rest of your nights lying awake, wondering who's getting into her pants."_

Harsh words, but oh, if only Chouza knew how true his predictions had been.

Inoichi grumbled and turned his head into his pillow, silky blonde hair settling over his face. Mumbling wistfully, he glanced at the empty space beside him, and in an ironic, twisted kind of way, he was glad that at least on that count, Chouza he'd been wrong.

Oh, yeah, he'd married one of the prettiest girls in Konoha alright...and then had her walk out on him when Ino was barely five. Yamanaka Lana had claimed to have loved him - apparently to her, though, love involved wandering into another man's arms, and then leaving her husband and young daughter for him. Rich irony indeed, for Inoichi.

Inoichi had been more deeply hurt than he'd ever let on, even to his own team mates. It had been easy to quash, though, because he'd still had Ino. His darling, adoring, bug-blue-eyed Daddy's girl, who worshipped the ground he'd walked on and forced him to devote his attention entirely to her from the first breath she'd breathed. Anything Daddy said was the truth of the gods, because Daddy walked on water. She'd even said so herself once, turning his heart into a little puddle with those big, innocent blue eyes.

...well, she _had_ worshipped the ground he'd walked on.

And then puberty had hit, and Inoichi had found himself with a whole new kettle of fish. Overnight, Ino had become bolder, more tempestuous, challenging his authority at every turn. It had frustrated him to no end, but she'd still been his little Ino.

And then she'd discovered there were boys far more interesting than Daddy. Lord, save his soul.

And now, he was stuck lying here, wide awake, in a hell of a mood. And with a mission tomorrow afternoon, at that.

It had started out so...innocently. They'd been eating dinner, and she'd let drop that some boy or other had asked her out. Now, though he was happy that she seemed to have gotten over that Uchiha...well, that wasn't the point. Of course it wasn't - no horny, unwashed adolescent boy was worthy of touching his daughter.

Thus, he'd choked on his food, and without thinking of the consequences, had blurted out a resounding 'no'. And it had been on from there.

After a half hour of much screaming, shouting and tearful shrieks of '_you don't love me enough to trust me, do you!' (_Oh god, those tears had been the worst), Ino had stormed out the door into the evening, claiming she'd never speak to him again and that he was the worst Daddy on the whole planet and she didn't care what he thought, she was going to date boys whether he liked it or not.

_Oh man..._

Inoichi muffled another curse, burying his face deeper into his pillow. He hated fighting with his daughter, hated making her cry even more than the idea of some unwashed little miscreant impregnating her. It wasn't wrong to be a little overprotective, right? Ino was an exceptionally beautiful young girl, and he _knew _what young men could be like. He'd been one himself, after all.

He grumbled again at that, wishing all kinds of pain on Chouza for jinxing him. He had to have jinxed him; there was no other explanation for the predicament he was now in.

He paused in his lengthy soliloquy of the torture he was going to inflict on his friend (which had involved some fairly humiliating use of _Shintenshin no Jutsu) _when he heard the floorboards outside his door creak, followed by the soft squeak of the door itself opening. Pure shinobi instinct made him tense up and reach for the kunai under his pillow, intent on at least putting up a fight against whatever intruder had invaded his room.

"...Daddy?"

Unless the intruder was Ino.

Frowning slightly, Inoichi rolled over to face his daughter, propping himself up on an elbow. He was most concerned to see the red-rimmed eyes, though he kicked himself in guilt, sure they were his doing for yelling at her before. Even at this age, he was reminded forcibly of the little five year old in butterfly pyjamas, who had crawled into bed beside him and snuggled up after a nightmare, or for comfort the night her mother had walked out.

"What's the matter, pet?" he asked, tone gentle despite his lengthy grumbling prior to her appearance.

He was surprised when, in response, she crawled into bed beside him, wrapping her arms around his middle and cuddling close. Now, _that _she hadn't done for quite a while. It worried him more so, though to be honest, it was a relief to know she was here and not out there still, with some hormonal teenage boy in her pants. Like any good father, though, Inoichi simply wrapped his arms around his daughter, tousling her long hair gently.

"Ino?" he murmured, cuddling her tighter when she sniffled a little. In response, she hugged him tighter, burrowing her face into his chest for comfort.

"He wasn't worth fighting for in the end, Daddy," she mumbled.

Inoichi paused at that, wondering what exactly had brought her to that mindset after their screaming match earlier in the evening. Really, he'd been more worried that said arguement would provoke her to further rebel against him...not that he was complaining, of course.

Still, it was a mark - albeit a grudging one - of his own lesson learnt from said fight when he hugged Ino comfortingly, kissing her forehead in that warm, paternal way that left every girl with a Daddy feeling loved, and made every girl without a Daddy wish for one.

"You'll find a guy worth fighting for one day, pet," he murmured soothingly.

_Just so long as it's not for a very long time._

...well, he was halfway there in his lesson learnt.


	4. Tenten

_**Disclaimer: **__Jiraiya's STILL not back, so we know I don't own Naruto. _

_**Pairing: **__Tenten/Ichirou (OC - warning: angsty and sad)_

_**Summary Notes: **__Because I love Tenten, and she's not given enough attention. Now, we don't know who her parents are, so I'm using some creative license here. Partly attributing this to White_Eye_Lover, who's own character of Ichirou is partly the inspiration for this Ichirou, with the other part of his inspiration due to my own Ichirou (confusing, I know xD)...actually, come to think of it, they're both somewhat alike. I just don't think one got kicked in the face by his future wife like the other did...oh wait, that depends on what we define as being nailed in the nose/face, right Shan? 3_

Tenten sighed softly, curling her stocky form closer to the memorial stone. She wasn't a girl known for emotional outbursts, even at the age of twelve. No, that was left to the more emotional characters in the village, such as that Haruno Sakura, or Yamanaka Ino (oh, don't get her wrong, she liked Ino. They were friends, even). Still, considering the life she'd led so far, she was entitled to feel a little sad, right?

Tenten didn't remember much about her mother; she'd died not long after Tenten had reached eight months of age, lost to the mistake made by many kunoichi mothers in that they went back onto the field too soon. She remembered her father, though.

He'd practically raised her, after all. Ichirou had been a quiet man of few words, reticient and even shy at times. Despite that, though, a girl could not have asked for a more loving, devoted father, and though they'd hit a rough patch now and again, Tenten had adored him and had sought to emulate him in every way possible.

And then he'd gone and died on her too, and she'd been left an orphan at the tender age of nine.

Tenten knew she was one of the lucky ones; she'd been able to know at least one of her parents before she'd lost them. In the shinobi world, that was a precious thing. Still, it was cruel, and she missed her father deeply.

Especially today of all days.

"I made genin today, Dad," she murmured. The memorial stone was silent, but still, Tenten pressed her cheek to her father's name, imagining, for a moment, that if she tried hard enough, the cold stone would turn into Ichirou, complete with that slight, gentle smile that bespoke a wealth of pride and emotion, really.

"You'd laugh, probably, if you met my new team. I swear I'm the only sane one on there...yeah, even saner than the Hyuuga boy. He's a bit like you, to be honest...just a lot more arrogant," she chuckled softly, adding, "Though you always told me arrogant people are just trying to hide their own insecurities...so maybe he'll tone it down over time, once he figures he can trust us."

The stone remained silent, and Tenten swallowed, refusing to shed tears even as her eyes burned. She'd cried enough when Ichirou had died, and though she was still young, a part of her knew that he would not want her to dwell on her grief. No, her father would want her to strive onwards, like he had forced himself to do even after his beloved wife, Mariko, had died.

"Gai-sensei's a bit whacked, but he was real nice...he says he knew you. He took me to get icecream after he dismissed our squad...and I saw Ino-san and her father at the icecream parlour, too. It was...nice."

_Sensei's not you, though. And it hurt, you know. Daddy, it hurt knowing you weren't going to be there to smile at me and lift me onto your shoulder at my graduation, like Inoichi-san had Ino on his shoulders._

Tenten sighed softly again, forcing herself to her feet. Her hitaite was cool on her forehead, shifting a little with every step she took; she'd have to tighten it, when she got home.

Tenten paused, looking back at the memorial stone. It glinted silver-grey in the afternoon sunlight, the shadows playing quietly across it. Immovable and steadfast. Like Ichirou had been.

"I love you, Daddy," she murmured softly, before turning and forcing her head high as she trekked for home.


	5. JiraiyaMinato Tsunade's Perspective

_**Disclaimer: **__JIRAIYA, COME BACK TO UUUUUS._

_**Pairing: **__Jiraiya/Minato (Tsunade's perspective)_

_**Summary Notes: **__Yes, I am playing with the concept of Minato's parentage again. Also, Loves, this little scene may intrigue you, as it was originally something I planned for that longer story of mine that got put on hold (remember the one you read the chapter of for me)? A slightly different perspective to the usual father/childness._

_"He was like a son to me. Hec, I know if he was my son, I'd brag about him all the time."_

Oh, if only he knew.

Tsunade clenches a hand tighter around the neck of the sake bottle. It is late, way past the time she normally sneaks out, and yet she is oblivious to it. Oblivious to all around her, save the drink and the emptiness in her soul, tormented by the fragments of memory that not even the harsh taste of raw sake can quell.

She remembers that one time, in all the years she was gone, when she returned to Konoha. To this day, she has no idea what prompted her to do so, but by god, she hates herself for it. She hates herself for it because the memory torments her with a most sadistic bittersweetness, and she hates it because try as she might, she cannot suppress it.

She remembers sneaking around the village like a whipped dog, glad that between the war and the chuunin exams, hardly anybody paid attention to her.

She remembers sneaking into the stadium, and watching as that little boy - that beautiful, sunshine-kissed boy - blew away his opponent, displaying a flash of a familiar temper when his opponent dared mock his diminutive size and angelic appearance.

She remembers the way her heart swelled with love for him, even as it broke.

But above all, she remembers how she sought the little boy out afterwards, only to find him hoisted upon his sensei's shoulders. His _Jiraiya-sensei's _shoulders.

Above all, she recalls the way the little blonde laughed, protesting half-heartedly as Jiraiya boisterously gallivanted around like an overexcited puppy, howling and whooping and fit to burst with pure pride as he held the boy on his shoulder. boasting of how the world would bow to them, the ladies fall at their feet, because his boy was a _man. _

And then the little blonde had smacked at his sensei's head playfully, demanding to be put down and 'you're paying for my ramen, sensei!' and complaining when a big hand ruffled his hair paternally.

And with that simple gesture, her heart completely shattered with the weight of the world.

The sake bottle creaks warningly under her hand, but Tsunade simply flings it from her person, splintering her desk with a blindly placed punch before burying her face in her arms.

_His boy._

_'Oh, Jiraiya, if only you knew. If only you knew.'_

Now, it was too late.


	6. HizashiNeji

_**Disclaimer: **__... COME BAAAACK._

_**Pairing: **__Hizashi/Neji_

_**Summary Notes: **__Because I was going to delve into the Hyuuga eventually. But god, you couldn't make it easy for me, Hizashi? Hiashi? Guys?_

So calm.

He'd thought he'd feel panic at the moment of death. Panic, regret, fear...things not even the strongest of shinobi could escape. He'd convinced himself, even as he'd quietly told his brother he intended to die for every reason he'd mentioned - Hiashi himself, to prevent war, to choose his own destiny - Hizashi had chortled at the irony in his mind...calmness then, panic now.

And yet, he felt calm. Everything was so...calm, almost peaceful in his mind. Even his chakra flow was clam, far from the erratic pulse he'd seen so many times with his Byakugan, even as he delivered the killing blow to an opponent.

Hizashi wondered, for a moment, if this calm was due to the fact that, for the first time in his life, he was deciding his own destiny. Yes, that was certainly it; he was deciding his own destiny for the first time in his life, he was defying Fate and with it, creating a better world simply by preventing a war.

He was creating a better world for Neji.

For a moment, panic almost assaulted him. _What better world? You're leaving him. You're leaving him all alone. Alone to face the cruelty of the elders, to face the terror of the world._

No. Neji was strong. Neji would fight on. And one day, Neji would understand why he had done this.

His only fear for his son was that he would become blinded and weakened by bitterness and prejudice, like he, Hizashi had. Those wide, sweet eyes Hizashi had come to live his life by would be filled with anger, hatred, cynicism...

_No. Neji will be great. Neji will break free from the cage. He'll break free, one day._

The blade that would bring about his execution swung down. And Hizashi's last image before the blackout was of a pair of wide, violet eyes gazing up at him, filled with innocence and confusion and the unconditional love of a child for his father.

_I know you'll make me proud, Neji._

And years later, Neji would do break free and honour his father's memory, with the help of a blonde, knuckle-headed ninja who'd never known the joy of a father's love and pride.


	7. HiruzenAsuma

_**Disclaimer: **__Still waiting for Jiraiya..._

_**Pairing: **__Hiruzen/Asuma_

_**Summary Notes: **__Before anyone goes at me for hating the Sandaime, I'll clear it up now; I love the Sandaime. I love how grandfatherly he is, how he looks out for Naruto and Sasuke and all of them. But I can't abide that he's some angelic man...not when he's in the position he was in, which would require slyness to get by, or the fact that he let Orochimaru do as he pleased. And Jiraiya and he obviously had some kind of run-in, and Asuma and Hiruzen...well, sadly, they remind me of myself and my Dad._

Asuma's not sure when exactly he and his father became so distant. He only knows that one day, he woke up, and suddenly realised that he no longer knew his father.

When he looks back, he supposes it was always going to happen. They were both far too alike - stubborn, persistant, hard-headed, reticient, with a distinct dislike for being proved wrong. People called him his father's son, which was truer than he'd wanted to acknowledge, especially as a teenager.

He knows better now, though. He's older, wiser, and he realises that they were both as much to blame. He was to blame because he'd been too hard-headed, too arrogant, too fixated on following his own desires. He'd hated being the Hokage's son, hated being pushed into following set standards, and it had made him all the more rebellious. Hiruzen, because he had been just as hard-headed, and as Hokage, too focused on not only his work, but the need to maintain the right image to not only Konoha, but the Five Nations.

When Asuma really thinks about it, it was that title that had ultimately led to their estrangement.

_Hokage. _

Because he actually remembered a time before his father was Hokage. When he was just 'Dad'. When he had just been...his hero, like any father. _His _hero to make proud, not the village's. And as much as he hates to admit it, as much as he always denied it...that was what it came down to.

Deep down inside, he'd still been that kid who'd wanted his father's attention for him and him alone. Hiruzen had been a stern taskmaster, certainly, but Asuma had been like any kid once - his life had revolved around the concern and pride his parents felt for him.

And then that title had gotten in the way. _Hokage._

Maybe that was why he hated politics so much. Maybe it was why he was so set on living his life his way, as simply as possible. His job (so long as he stayed alive), his comrades...a family...

Simple. But happy. Two things he knew his father had never been once he'd been constrained by his obligations as Hokage. Two things he'd once been, back when he'd simply been the father that his son had been eager to make proud.

Asuma sighed, the cigarette smoke wafting in the cold autumn air, curling and settling around the gravestone. It seemed a strangely empty gift to such a formidable man, and yet ironically, Asuma knew it would have held more weight with his old man than flowers or incense ever would have.

"What do you say to bein' a granddad, Dad..."


	8. MinatoNaruto

_**Disclaimer: **__Still waiting for Jiraiya..._

_**Pairing: **__Minato/Naruto_

_**Summary Notes: WARNING. **__Spoilers for the newest manga ahead and speculation._

Namikaze Minato had always prided himself on being a brave man.

Always. Whether he was shinobi, sensei, Hokage, the smitten teenage boy rescuing a beautiful red-head from her kidnappers...he had always prided himself on being the brave one. The strong one. The dexterous one. The courageous Yellow Flash, the one the village turned to in times of need.

Yet right at this moment, the Yondaime Hokage wanted nothing more than to run. He wanted to run and hide in some dark place, and howl and howl until he was so spent he couldn't even muster the energy to grieve.

The village was in ruins. His men and women, his brave shinobi, dissolved in a blur of chaos and fire and darkness. He could hear it - every scream and cry and howl as that demonic chakra leaked throughout the village, released from it's host. Reminding him that Kushina was...Kushina...

The Kyuubi was free. And when it escaped its host, the Jinchuuriki would die.

And Kushina was...oh god...

A shrill mewling interrupted his thoughts, and Minato turned, his throat closing up as he regarded the small bundle curled up in the large, woolen blanket that shielded him from the cold in the cave. Bright blue eyes regarded him in the firelight, filled with fear and more confusion than a little baby should ever feel.

But worst of all, there was pleading, trust in those eyes. Eyes that were so perfectly the replica of the baby's mother's as they regarded him that Minato could almost swear they were her eyes. Kushina's eyes.

The baby made another mewling sound. It was too much. Minato had tried to distance himself, thinking it best in this raw, nightmarish situation, but...

"I'm so sorry, Naruto..." he whispered, choking on a sob as he lay beside the little boy. His son. He stroked the tiny tufts of blonde hair, running a hand over the boy's face, resting it on the round stomach as it moved up and down with every breath. Naruto gave another soft whimper before settling, and Minato's heart broke that much more.

This was so wrong...this wasn't how it was meant to happen. Kushina was supposed to go through the birth with no worries, and they would raise their child together. Minato remembered the daydreams he had entertained...Naruto's first word would be "Mummy", because he'd be a Mummy's boy, but his first steps would be to Minato, and they would eventually turn into excited running...he would cuddle the boy while he signed paperwork, so Kushina could rest...he'd even get up at ungodly hours to spare her...

He wanted to run away. He wanted to run and hide. And he wanted to take his son with him. Away from this nightmare.

Another roar sounded outside. The entire earth seemed to shake, and instinctively, Minato held his son protectively in his embrace, humming softly to quiet Naruto's frightened cries, glaring through tear-filled eyes at the sickly orange chakra around them as if that alone would chase it all away.

Vaguely, he knew somewhere in his mind that it was time. Time to carry out the ritual, time to save his village.

...Time to seal away his soul, and deprive his only son of the one thing Minato had sworn never to take from his child. Parents. The one thing Minato had never had, and the one thing he had always wished for with all his heart.

A shaky sigh escaped his lips, and Minato held his son tightly for a moment longer, inhaling the baby smell, relishing in the texture of his son's hair and the warmth of his plump little body one last time. He was nearly undone again when the boy cooed softly, his little fingers tangling in his father's bangs as he snuggled into him trustingly.

Despite the sounds outside, Minato held him for a few moments longer, waiting quietly for Naruto to fall asleep. That, at least, he could do as a father. And somehow, it steeled him. He inhaled deeply, tightening his arms around Naruto one more time, pressing a kiss to the baby's forehead before wrapping him in the blanket once more, trying to ignore the emptiness in his arms and his heart as he walked to the mouth of the cave.

He stopped, just for a moment, glancing over his shoulder and smiling softly before continuing on.

_I hope you'll forgive me one day, Naruto._


	9. Gaara4thKazekage

_**Disclaimer: **__*sits in corner and waves her Yondaime and Jiraiya flags*_

_**Characters: **__Yondaime Kazekage/Gaara. _

_**Summary Notes: **__For White_Eye_Lover, because she requested it as the next chapter. If anybody guesses the ambiguous mother at the end of this, I will...I will give you cookies and attempt to write a oneshot of your choice for you._

Like father, like son.

It was one of the oldest phrases in the book. And one of those most trite, in Gaara's opinion. It was such an officious, old fashioned statement to make. One that clearly had not been spoken with sensitivity towards others, or acknowledgement of differing situations when it came to family, especially the relationship that apparently should exist between father and son.

Or maybe the fool who'd made the statement had been just that...a fool. Ignorant, perhaps, of others, because his own situation with his paternal parent had been so free of strain and tension that he hadn't minded being compared to his father.

In a way, Gaara envied that fool. He wouldn't go so far as to call himself bitter, not anymore. He'd made his peace with his past a long time ago. He'd had to make peace with it - a good, honest Kage could not let his personal history get in the way of his present self.

But sometimes, he still felt that small pang of envy towards those who had fathers who cared for them. Even those who had lost their fathers still knew that their father had cared for them. Loved them. Protected them. Would never have dreamed of using them as a tool for war, and subsequently, condemned their child to a life of darkness and torment.

It hurt a little, even now. After all, even the bitterest child wanted nothing more than pride and safety from their parents, especially their father. He'd never had that. No matter what he'd done, his father had scorned him, avoided him when he could, ignored him when he was forced to deal with him those few times Gaara escaped his rooms, or rather, if Temari and Kankuro took pity on him and broke him out for a few hours. Worst of all, his father had done what no father should ever have done; he had attempted to kill him. Not just once, either. Multiple times.

It had made him bitter. So very bitter. He'd been able to stand the loathing of the village, strangers around him. But when your own family treated you in such a manner...it would make anyone hateful. And yet in the back of his mind, he could acknowledge that despite that hatred, the boy he had been had still yearned so deeply for even the smallest trace of approval from the man who had fathered him.

Gaara often wondered if he was anything like his father. He remembered reflecting on his own bitterness, once, and wondered if his father had been just as bitter in the end. He'd even been told once that the hardness in his gaze reflected that of the Yondaime Kazekage, and he remembered how he had gone to Temari in the closest form of a panic attack he could manage, demanding her to tell him if it was true.

He remembered how she had hesitated, because she could never lie to him. But then she had taken him by the shoulder and squeezed it in a rare show of gentleness and affection, had told him that yes, there was a similar hardness in him, but the difference was was that Gaara had discovered it for what it was, and now he could change it.

And now, as he looked down at the small bundle settled so trustingly in his arms, he wondered if one day, his son would feel the same as he did. Would he too, regret the man who had fathered him? Would he find those words as trite as Gaara did.

_No._

Gaara let a hand pass gently through the wispy indigo-black hair of the baby, and despite himself, the slightest of smiles graced his impassive features when the infant stirred and squeaked softly, opening his wide, blue-green eyes to regard his father sleepily before closing them again and curling into the warmth of Gaara's chest, grumbling under his breath at being awoken.

It was the most beautiful sound Gaara had ever heard. And in that moment, he vowed his son would never feel the same as he did. He would never know bitterness or hate; he would know only pride and protection. As much of it as Gaara could give, whenever he could give it.

The little one in his arms would be proud when he heard those words...like father, like son.


	10. JiraiyaNaruto

_**Disclaimer: **__*waves Jiraiya flag*_

_**Characters: **__Jiraiya, Naruto_

A snore sounded loudly over his shoulder and Jiraiya sighed, shaking his head wearily. At this time of the night, there was any number of things he'd prefer to be doing. Sleeping...women...drinking...and not necessarily in that order. It was late, it was cold, and anyone with half an iota of sense would be inside.

Of course, this was Naruto he was talking about. The brat and common sense just did not go together. Not that Jiraiya could talk; he'd been just as bad, once, and probably still was. Naruto though...Naruto was something else. The kid just didn't stop until he'd seen something through, and it wasn't just the Uchiha kid keeping him going, either.

No, it was simply Naruto's nature to keep going until he had succeeded. And that...that was what would make him Hokage one day.

Just like his father.

Jiraiya smiled a little at that, moving his pipe to the corner of his mouth as he lifted Naruto's slumbering form off his shoulder, settling him on his sleeping mat in the rented room. The boy stirred, blue eyes opening to fix blearily on his teacher.

"Neh, Pervy Sage?" he mumbled blearily, "I gotta train more..."

"Nah, go to sleep, kid." Jiraiya placed a large hand gently on Naruto's chest, preventing him from moving any further. Not that he was really capable of it; he'd completely exhausted himself. They'd have to discuss his training regime - well, more like argue about it - but Jiraiya couldn't stop the little flash of pride at the sheer perservearance and grit Naruto showed. It was so much like Minato that it hurt, and Jiraiya felt a pang for the man he'd called son, and with him, the boy whom he'd now taken under his wing, who would never know his father.

Naruto had been spurned, scorned, neglected and abandoned. Yet he was still so...gritty, so determined to protect the people who'd abused him. He truly was Konoha's number one knuckle-headed ninja.

"Sleep, Naruto," he muttered, and after giving him a sleepy pout, Naruto closed his eyes, curling into a ball under the blanket. Before long, he'd dropped off completely, and Jiraiya rolled his eyes good-naturedly when loud snores filled the room.

_You'd damn well better be proud of your kid, Minato. I sure as hell am._


	11. ShinoShibi

_**Disclaimer: **__*pouts and waves Jiraiya flag*_

_**Characters: **__Shino, Shibi. Implied Shino/Ino._

Shibi didn't need his bugs to know when something was going on. Especially when it came to his son. He was a father, after all, and while the Aburame Clan were known for their aloofness, it didn't mean they were devoid of human love and emotion. In fact, they had an incredibly strong sense of family on par with any Inuzuka; it was just...quieter.

Shino had been acting strangely for a while now. He'd been on edge, or as close to on edge as Shino would allow people to see. Really, Shibi doubted anybody else could really see it, but he was the boy's father. Thus, he saw it, and upon doing so, proceeded to covertly keep an eye on Shino, determined to get to the bottom of his son's behaviour out of both clan duty and parental concern.

What he'd discovered had both startled and amused him, albeit in a rather melancholic way.

Shibi would never have expected his son to be a victim to hopeless love. And certainly not to a woman such as that Yamanka girl. Inoichi's daughter...oh, what was her name? Ino? Yes, Ino. Bit of a shallow choice, in his opinion, especially when compared to his son's intellect.

But...no. It wasn't...it wasn't unexpected. Because Shibi...Shibi had been exactly the same once. He had loved just as hopelessly as Shino had in his youth. A beautiful, spirited girl, with blonde hair and deep blue eyes and a smile that stopped hearts. And yet she'd been a pure tomboy, her only feminine weakness her love for flowers. But that was expected.

She'd been Yamanaka, after all.

_Inoue. Yamanaka Inoue._

He'd loved her so much that it had hurt. But he'd been too much of a coward to stand up to his clan elders, to defy tradition and follow his heart over his head. He'd let his elders cajole and coerce him into casting himself from the woman he loved, in favour of a match they found more suitable.

And then he'd lost her. Forever.

And to this day, Shibi had never quite gotten over that grief and self-loathing. Oh, he'd learnt to be friends with his wife, but it had been Shino's presence in his life that had made it more than barely worth living.

And it was for that reason that he would do anything to see his son happy.

Even defy the tradition he had once been too cowardly to flee from.

Shibi watched his son interact with the Yamanaka girl. He watched as she fluttered here and there in the flower shop, explaining this flower and that. He watched his son shuffle his feet before tentatively offering his own input on which flower suited what, and why this bug was healthy for that plant. He watched when the girl grinned at Shino in response before moving to another part of the shop, and if he'd been a less controlled man, he might have laughed at the dazed manner in which Shino behaved after having that million watts smile flashed at him.

It was like revisiting memory lane, for Shibi.

Only this time, there would be a whole new set of memories. But only if Shino allowed it.

Thus, when Shino shuffled his way back to his father, Shibi placed a hand on his shoulder in a rare display of affection, clearing his throat quietly so his son would look up at him.

"Don't make the mistake of letting a beautiful thing slip away, son," he said softly. Shino blinked behind his glasses at his father, tilting his head in consideration at the words. For a moment, Shibi feared his son would challenge him, but then Shino looked at him again, and there was understanding far beyond his years in his gaze, and with it, a strange kind of hopefulness and determination.

Shibi smiled quietly to himself as Shino left him again to follow the girl, Ino, around, and he watched as this time, his son answered her attempts at conversation with a great deal more warmth and confidence before turning away.

He knew Shino would never suffer the same mistakes he had. And Shibi loved his son...and for that reason, he would face any obstacles in his way when the time came. Because that was what a true father was supposed to do.


	12. ChojiChouza

_**Disclaimer: **__*cries in her MinatoKushina corner*_

_**Characters: **__Chouza, Choji_

_**Summary Notes: **__Because I was depressing White_Eye_Lover, so I made her a...somewhat happy one. Warning though: References to child abuse and domestic violence._

"Up, Da! Up!"

The large man cannot help the smile creeping up on his lips. Everyone says that the little boy is his exact image, right down to the chubby face and the way he somehow manages to combine a demand with gentleness as he holds his arms out, smiling as he waits patiently for the man who is playmate and food-supplier and security and hero all in one, like a Dad should be.

Chouza remembers that age. And when he remembers, he sees the little differences between himself and his son, differences no one else would notice. Well, except perhaps Inoichi and Shikaku, and only because they are his closest friends and comrades.

Nobody else who remembers Chouza at the age Choji is now is alive now; they wouldn't see the way the boy Chouza had shied away from large men until he had been as big as those large men himself. They wouldn't recall the way he would shrink back when the same man he was to the little boy at his feet arrived on the scene, or how he would turn up with bruises and once, a broken arm. That had been easy enough to pass off as a mission accident, and only Inoichi and Shikaku had known the truth. They had simply remained silent, but only because he had begged them, though they had readily allowed him to stay nights at their places, and had eagerly agreed to their own place when they had all grown old enough to fend for themselves.

Ultimately, they would see the difference in smiles. Chouza's smiles had and to this day were haunted, watchful, wary, even with the tormenter of his childhood gone. Choji's was so filled with innocence and sweetness, completely oblivious to the horrors of the world, his only demand to be picked up and put upon his father's shoulders.

And his demand would be granted. Just as his every need and want would be granted, from food to warmth to protection and above all, love. Simple things that a child should be born with, and grow with.

"Daaaa!"

"Alright, alright!"

Chouza snorts, the sound sending his son into giggles, which rapidly turn into hysterical laughter as he is placed upon the mountainous height that is his father's shoulders. His little hands grab and poke and pull hair, and though he winces, Chouza gently detaches his hands and holds them in his own immense ones.

"High up! High up! Da's shoulders high up!"

Chouza's face splits into a grin, and he laughs loud and long at his son's antics, causing Choji to burst into hysterical laughter once again. His heart is warmed by the shrill childish sounds, and like he did the moment the boy was born, he vows that for Choji, no place will ever be higher and safer than Dad's shoulders.


	13. JiraiyaHiruzen

_**Disclaimer: **__*waves Jiraiya flag*_

_**Characters: **__Hiruzen, Jiraiya_

_**Summary Notes: **__For monkeerangerfan, by request. And it's an unusual concept of father/son, so I figured I'd give it a shot._

Jiraiya leans against the old log in the training grounds. The old log that has stood for generations, and been the centerpiece to just as many generations of young, hopeful shinobi. In a way, it represented all the memories of the past, the joys and sorrows of the present, and the hope and promise of the future.

For Jiraiya, it represented all the memories of the past. On this day, even more so.

There is no one else around. No one to keep him company save the rustle of grass in the cold breeze, and the ominous rumbling of clouds overhead. It will rain soon, as if the very elements are synchronized together for once, all banded together to lament the death of the Sandaime Hokage.

Jiraiya smirks to himself. He could imagine the man's face clear as day; he would flush slightly and bluster, apparently embarrassed by such a gesture, but they'd all know that inwardly, he was preening. And they would laugh at him, and make fun of him, before running for their very lives. Him. Tsunade. Orochimaru.

Memories of the past indeed.

In hindsight, Jiraiya realises that for all his bluster and praise - mostly directed at Orochimaru - and despite the fact that they had disagreed with each other until the day Sarutobi-sensei had literally died...the man who had been called the Sandaime Hokage and Sarutobi Hiruzen and to him, Sensei, had been more of a father to him than any other.

He'd been there when Jiraiya had struggled, rolling his eyes and lamenting the boy's stupidity, and yet he'd taken him on for one on one training, trying as best he could to knock some skill into Jiraiya's thick skull. And he'd partly succeeded, for without him, Jiraiya would never have discovered the toads.

He'd been there when his parents had died, offering his ragged boy self an arm around his shoulders and quiet words of comfort. Nothing else, no blustery lecture on how he should be proud of his parents...just comfort. His presence. It had meant the world to the boy.

He'd been there, most unusually, when Jiraiya had suffered his worst rejection yet - a beating at the hands of his beautiful team mate for peeking on her in the baths - shaking his head in exasperation when Jiraiya opened his eyes, but smiling all the same.

He'd been the one to introduce Jiraiya to tobacco and the good ol' pipe. Not that cheap cigarette crap, Sarutobi-sensei had said, shaking his head in disgust as he stamped the cigarette into the dirt before handing Jiraiya a pipe.

In a way, he'd been Jiraiya's first teenage arguement with, that irritating guardian figure standing toe to toe with the boy and telling him why he couldn't do this or that and why he was being a complete and utter idiot. And he'd continued to do so until the day he'd died, and in that way, Jiraiya had played the role of scathing son determined not to makes the same mistakes the father had.

Including becoming Hokage.

Oh yes, in hindsight indeed...Sarutobi-sensei's presence had been closer to Jiraiya's heart than he'd ever imagine, or ever discover.

Jiraiya smirked, rolling his eyes in a way that made him look much like the rebellious boy he'd once been. Coughing slightly, he took out his pipe. Lighting it, he stuck it in his mouth, inhaling deeply before letting the smoke waft into the cold air. Ignorant of the raindrops beginning to fall from the sky.

_This one's for you, you stubborn old prick. _


	14. The Uchiha Family

_**Disclaimer: **__*hunches in Jiraiya corner*_

_**Characters: **__Fugaku, Itachi, Sasuke - the Uchiha Family_

_**Summary Notes: **__Because once, they were a family, and Fugaku is still a father._

"Hey, Dad, lookit me! Dad, look!"

"Fugaku, look at him."

Fugaku levelled a petulant glower at his wife, though it did little to deter the black eyes glaring back at him in response. Muffling a sigh, he pushed himself into a sitting position on the picnic rug, giving Mikoto another grudging look before turning towards the voice of his three year old son.

The sight that greeted him was an amusing one, to say the least, and despite his general grumpiness, Fugaku's mouth twitched at the sight of Sasuke pinning his older brother down, sitting on him and grinning rather maliciously in delight. It was clear Itachi was humouring him; the older boy was sprawled on the ground, chin propped in one arm and fingers tapping the ground with the other.

At the sight of his father watching him, Sasuke's grin widened, and he made a show of trying to smack Itachi's head into the ground, earning a groan of effort that was definitely exaggerated for the toddler's benefit. Fugaku snorted, shaking his head before turning away.

"Very good, Sasuke," he said offhandedly, as if it meant little and he gave out compliments every day. The happy laughter that followed told a whole other story, though, and though he closed his eyes and resumed his dozing position once more, the slight smile on Fugaku's face told his wife alone that despite his reserved actions, Uchiha Fugaku did truly love both his sons in his own way.


	15. HinataHiashi

_**Disclaimer: **__*builds a Greek monument to Jiraiya*_

_**Characters: **__Hiashi, Hinata. References to Hanabi._

_**Summary Notes: **__For Sammyquill, for her squishy review of Hiashi and Hinata in Blame the Addiction. And because it's good to have people to rabidly fangirl with. x3_

They called him hard, cold, ruthless, cruel even. They whispered all kinds of unsavoury descriptions, criticised the way he set such a harsh regime for his daughters, especially the eldest. Some even had the gall to tell him openly to his face what kind of asshole he was...even Tsume, whom he trusted like no other, had criticised, and that had ended up in a spectacular yelling match outside the Nara forests. They hadn't spoken to each other for weeks after that, and carefully avoided that delicate topic.

Said topic being, of course, the way he trained his daughters. Especially shy, gentle Hinata.

Perhaps he was harsh, cold, ruthless, cruel. No, he knew he was. What those who had the gall to criticise him though didn't realise that the reason he did so was because...because of love. Because he loved his daughters. He loved them so much it hurt, even as he locked that love away in the day to day running of the Hyuuga clan. But ultimately, that love was what drove him to whatever he needed to do that would protect his daughters.

Even if it meant training them into the ground from the tender age of three.

Because if he didn't, they would be suffocated. Suffocated by the harsh reality of the shinobi world, and the equally harsh politics of the Hyuuga Clan, especially the underhanded, conniving Council and it's greedy elders. Especially Hinata. Shy, sweet, gentle Hinata...she would be crushed.

And Hiashi would be damned if he would _ever _fail as a father in that way, even if he failed in every other way possible. He would make her strong, and if that failed, he would...think of other alternatives.

Even if it meant letting her go her own way.


	16. KakashiSakumo

_**Disclaimer: **__*hugs Jiraiya plushie*_

_**Characters: **__Kakashi, Sakumo._

_**Summary Notes: **__*shoots self* I used to like the Hatake, but now I hate them. They took my brain._

He likes to think the ground remains beaten down for him, rather than the truth; it remains beaten because of the countless feet that tramp upon it, the feet of the shinobi who visit this place to honour fallen comrades, loved ones. Brothers, sisters, lovers, parents.

He still likes to think that, though. He's always been selfish like that; it's just taken the deaths of those who mean something to him for him to realise that. Rin, Obito, Sensei, his father...

_Those who disobey the rules are trash. But those who abandon their comrades? They're worse than trash. _

It took the death of his team mate for him to realise that to go it alone was not the way. That to abandon one's comrades made you no better than the most evil of demons.

_Greatness isn't always the gift it is made out to be, son._

And it had taken his Sensei's and his father's deaths for him to realise that despite all the power and talent in the world one could have, it was insignificant if you lacked the heart to use it beyond your own gains. All the power and talent in the world meant nothing if you could not save those who meant the most of you.

That was why he stood in this same place, every day. To remind himself of his failure, of his mortality, of his selfishness. Of the fact that in the end, he was just a man.

His father had taught him these things long ago, when he had been small enough to sit on his knee. When Sakumo had simply been his father, and nothing else. Not a shinobi. Not the great White Fang of Konoha. Just a man.

And by visiting this place every day, he would ensure he'd never again forget that he was his father's son.


	17. NarutoIruka

_**Disclaimer: **__*hoards Jiraiya*_

_**Characters: **__Iruka, Naruto_

_**Summary Notes: **__For Shen. Also, Alice, I love you. You and your encouragement of my following in the footsteps of The Man. *snugs her Jiraiya birthday card* This is dedicated to Alice too. 8D _

_Warning: Possible AU/set in the future._

"Neh, Iruka-sensei?"

The scarred man blinked at the honorific, pausing in his consumption - more like vacuuming - of the ramen in his bowl. Looking up, he arched an eyebrow at the boy beside him. No, not boy...man. Naruto was a man in every way now, and the domed hat that sat sentinel beside his bowl was symbolic in itself of the enormous journey it's wearer had taken to gain the right to wear it.

It was for that reason that, despite the immense amount of teacherly pride Iruka still felt, that he raised that eyebrow, still not quite comfortable with the fact that the Hokage of all people called him 'sensei', and yet, he felt a certain sense of smugness, bordering on selfishness even, that it _was _the Hokage of all people who still called him "Iruka-sensei", regardless of age and status in life. In a way, he still saw Naruto as that knuckleheaded little kid, out to make life difficult for the village that had spurned him before doing a complete heel-face-turn and choosing to love and protect it, regardless of it's scorn.

Naruto grinned sheepishly in response to the look. "Neh, sorry, Iruka-sensei. Force of habit, dattebayo."

Despite himself, Iruka chuckled. Force of habit indeed. Not even age had quelled Naruto's enthusiasm, or his tendency to throw in the word 'dattebayo' when he was excited, embarrassed, angry or...well, in a highly emotional state in general. Which was generally all the time, even now. It was just now, Naruto had learnt to combine it with common sense, something Iruka liked to believe he had pounded into the blonde's head.

"What is it, Naruto?" he said, watching as the young Hokage twirled his chopsticks absently through his noodles. The boy...young man...only did that when he was considering something serious, and Iruka's other eyebrow rose a smidgeon higher, only to have both of them rise almost to his hairline when Naruto voiced his question.

"I never noticed as a kid, dattebayo, but now...you've always looked out for me, Iruka-sensei. Even when I was bein' a dick, you still looked out for me...hell, remember when I stole that scroll? Y'almost died, dattebayo."

Iruka was quiet as he listened to Naruto speak, and remained so for some time afterwards, mulling the words over and looking for the simplest way to answer them. Long enough for Naruto to grow uneasy and begin to fidget, stuffing the remants of his ramen in his mouth to distract himself. Eventually though, he glanced over at the blonde, and despite that ever present gentle smile, there was a seriousness, a sort of empathy in their dark depths that once again made his former student feel that twinge of warmth that came with belonging and being understood, a twinge he'd first felt all those years ago when Iruka had jumped in the way of the giant shuriken.

"Because...because I know how it feels to grow up without a father, Naruto."


	18. The Inuzuka Family Special Addition

_**Disclaimer: **__*waves Tsume flag*_

_**Characters: **__Tsume, Kiba, Hana. Implied ItachiHana._

_**Summary Notes: **__This one's for all the mothers out there who've had to raise their kids on their own, and be both mother and father to them. These women are a different kind of strength altogether, and society just does not give them enough credit._

"Mummy! Mummy! Mummy! Story! Story! Story!"

Tsume sighed, lowering the paperwork she had been reading (and systematically shredding in her head), raising an eyebrow wearily at her four year old son.

"Kiba, I'm busy. Go to bed."

His response was predictable and immediate; he proceeded to pout the biggest pout imaginable, and his cat-like eyes, so like her own, dilated to monstrous proportions as he scuffed his feet and attempted to look as cute and as pathetic as possible. It tugged her heartstrings, just a bit, but she'd taught herself from the moment she'd had Hana to not fall for the sad puppy eyes. She'd been a master of them herself once, after all...still was, if Hiashi's response to them was any indication.

Still, she'd had to school herself against them all over again when she'd had Kiba. He was her image in every way, and a mother's boy, even if he'd gag and tell her to stop being mushy if she mentioned it.

"I wanna story!"

"Kiba," she sighed again, rubbing her temples, "Can't you get Hana to read you a story?"

"No!" was the adamant reply, and the pout grew.

"Why not?"

"Because I want you to read it, Mummy!"

"Alright, alright," Tsume sighed, "But I'm only reading it once, Kiba, you hear me?"

Kiba grinned and nodded vigorously in response before taking off for his room, yelling happily to his sister that he was going to bed and Mummy was reading him a story and whatever else the overexcitable four year old felt like yelling at the top of his lungs.

Tsume sighed again and shook her head, scratching Kuromaru's side with a foot before standing. The paperwork would have to wait. She made her way down the hallway, pausing when her ten year old daughter appeared at her bedroom door, her three puppies lounging around her feet with vague expressions of annoyance at being awoken by the spastic 'pup'.

Tsume was struck once again by how much Hana had grown, but at the same time, she was worried by how tired Hana looked. Far too tired for her age, really, and for a moment, Tsume hastily went through her mind all the things she could have done wrong that would make her eldest look so weary.

"Sorry, sweetheart. We didn't mean to wake you."

Hana smiled tiredly and shook her head. "I wasn't sleeping anyway, Ma."

Tsume frowned a little at that, holding out an arm in invitation. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, it's not important," Hana mumbled, but the way she refused to meet her mother's eye told Tsume exactly what it was that was bothering her. The Uchiha boy. Itachi. Damn the kid, whatever he was doing that was making Hana lose sleep, though Tsume admitted to herself that it was probably as much Hana's doing as it was Itachi's. Hana cared deeply for everything around her, especially that boy, sometimes a little too much.

Not that Tsume could talk, and she shook the image of a certain Hyuuga team mate out of her head. It was in the genes, clearly.

She was tempted to broach the subject with her daughter, but it was likely to dissolve into an arguement, and Hana just looked too tired to be drawn into a squabble. So Tsume held her tongue, choosing to hug her child tightly instead when Hana slipped under her arm, trying to convey all the love and support and protectiveness she could in that one embrace, like any mother would.

"Just take it one day at a time," she murmured, kissing Hana's head before releasing her. Her daughter smiled in response, her brown eyes lighting up despite her tiredness as she stepped back and began herding the Hamaru Sankyodai back into her room.

"You'd better go before he starts howling to the moon and clawing up the house," she commented, grinning over her shoulder when Kiba showed up, right on cue.

"Muuuuum!" he whined, clinging to her leg and kneading his claws into her pants impatiently. Tsume snorted and smiled, shaking her head at her daughter before lifting Kiba and carting him to his room. She smiled when he immediately curled into her body, snuggling into her neck trustingly.

"A'ight, you monster, which story will it be tonight?"


End file.
